


our words would take us halfway 'round the world

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: ASOS Spoilers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hostage Situation, M/M, Post - A Storm of Swords, Running Away, Schmoop, Wishful Thinking, serious wishful thinking, sort of happy ending?, this never happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 07:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where Robb, at the news that Balon Greyjoy might be rebel again, doesn't want to take any risks and runs away with Theon before it's too late. His sister finds them years later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	our words would take us halfway 'round the world

**Author's Note:**

> written for the last round at the asoiaf kink meme - the prompt was _before everything goes to hell, there is a rumor that Balon Greyjoy has rebelled and Ned would have to kill Theon. Robb, who may love his family, also loves Theon and loves him enough to take him and run away with him to keep him safe. A few years later, once everything has gone to hell, one of the Stark's sees the two of them, happy and in love and not caught up in all the crazy around them_. The title is from Radical Face, this never happened and I own absolutely nothing. Also: this is based on book canon, but just pretend that their ages are the same as in the show - since this is supposed to be set some three/four years before the GOT events it was more convenient that the two of them were the same age.

_Then_

 

“Wake up,” Robb says shaking Theon’s shoulder, trying not to speak loudly. The last thing he needs is for anyone to overhear him. “Greyjoy, you heard me? Wake up,” he hisses when Theon merely groans and turns on his side.

He blinks then, and he turns to look at Robb with the face of someone who isn’t happy about his sleep being interrupted. Then he obviously notices how worried Robb looks even in the faint light of the candle that Robb is holding in his free hand.

“What – what’s going on?”

Robb thrusts the piece of paper at him. The one coming from one of his father’s bannermen who had been on a trip to Pyke and saw fit to send a raven because it might concern Lord Stark, and that Robb had read after his father left it lying on the desk in his study while muttering about needing to take precautions.

And which he has technically stolen, but it’s not the worst thing he’s going to do in this entire month, probably.

Considering how much Theon goes pale the moment he reads it, Robb can’t help thinking he took the right decision. And why wouldn’t he? It says that there are some strange movements around the place, and that while there’s no assurance that Balon Greyjoy is thinking about rebelling again… well, Lord Stark should get ready for it just in case it might happen?

“Robb, this doesn’t necessarily mean that –”

“Maybe not, but what if it does and you’re _here_ when it happens?”

Theon doesn’t answer, but he looks down at the piece of paper again, gritting his teeth before handing it back to Robb.

“And what you suggest I should do? I don’t have much of a choice either way.”

“Actually, you have. Get up, dress and grab your things. We’re going to White Harbor.”

“Wait – what –”

“We’re going to White Harbor and we’re both boarding a ship to the free cities.”

“Stark, are you _mad_?”

“Jon said he’d get the horses ready. Well, he doesn’t know I’m coming with you until after White Harbor, but he doesn’t need to. And over there, I’m sure we can find someone who’ll keep their mouth shut if paid enough. Come on, we don’t have all night and if someone finds us then we won’t be able to do it.”

“Robb.” Theon grabs his wrist hard enough to hurt and he’s looking at him as if he can’t buy a single word of what Robb has just said. “You don’t know what you’re doing. I can – I can go, you’re right that I shouldn’t be here, but – you can’t – if you come with me you’re forsaking your family, or did you miss that part?”

“I took that into account, yes,” Robb replies, as if he needs to consider his decision again. “And I’m not letting you go there on your own.”

“You can’t throw it away because my father _might_ –”

“It’s more than enough that he _might_ ,” Robb interrupts him. “If it’s not true – well, fine, I’ll deal with it. But if it is and we don’t leave now you’re going to be dead the moment it’s confirmed and I – and I couldn’t deal with that. So, are you coming or not?”

Theon shakes his head, as if he’s promising himself to convince Robb differently while they ride, and then he gets out of the bed and puts on his clothes.

Good.

Because the sooner they’re gone, the sooner Robb will stop worrying.

\--

He can’t help feeling somewhat guilty as they ride – he had to stop himself from hugging Jon too hard when he left. As far as Jon is concerned, he’s coming back in a couple of days.

He’s not – he left a note in one of Bran’s history books that he’s sure shouldn’t be used before a couple of days, and he doesn’t really think that they will understand it. He also feels moderately guilty because he knows that this won’t be a good thing for the people left behind – firstborns in important houses don’t run off to the Free Cities with their fathers’ hostages.

But the moment he read that letter he had wanted to throw up – just the idea of Theon dying like that was making him feel sick. Sure, he could have organized an escape just for him, but he remembers the way Theon used to look when he had just come from Pyke (he used to look _lost_ , and miserable during the entire first month he spent keeping to himself) and he can’t bring himself to send him off on his own to some unknown place.

Sure, it’s not like two boys of sixteen on their own in a place they both don’t know looks like a good prospect, but still… if it ends up that his suspicions were right and that Theon’s father really would sacrifice him for some stupid revenge, then he knows he won’t regret it.

After all, after him there’s Bran. Or even Jon. Or his sisters. He’s sorry that he won’t see his newborn brother grow up, but he’ll be surrounded with siblings. They’ll deal without him.

\--

“You should have gone back,” Theon says in the small cabin they managed to secure. The boat has left by now, headed for Braavos. “You should take a ship back the moment we get there.”

“You know I won’t,” Robb replies.

“I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I never said that you couldn’t. But I’m not going back.”

“Robb, do I have to remind you that you’re the firstborn? This is going to cause an uproar, and regardless of what my father does – Stark, damn you, you can’t seriously think that you won’t regret this in less than a year.”

Robb shakes his head before taking off his boots and moving across the room. He sits on Theon’s bed, not minding that Theon is giving him his shoulder right now.

“I’m not leaving you there on your own. Deal with it.”

“Stark –”

“Fine. There’s going to be an uproar. Well, my father’s reputation survived coming home with a bastard son, didn’t he? I’m not his _only_ heir. I have five siblings. They’ll deal. And you don’t deserve to – to get shipped to Braavos on your own so that my conscience is clean just because I helped you to escape, all right? I’m where I want to be and no one forced me.”

He can’t help noticing that Theon’s fingers are fisting the sheet tight enough that his knuckles are becoming white.

“I can’t believe this,” he mutters. “I can’t even – you can’t be serious.”

Robb doesn’t dignify him with an answer and moves under the covers. Theon goes tense when he puts an arm around his waist – obviously he didn’t expect it.

“I am. Very much serious. Idiot, you still didn’t get that I always valued you as much as them?”

For a moment there’s silence, then Theon turns towards him, looking – Robb doesn’t know how to put it, but he’s sure that not once in his life someone has ever looked at him the way Theon is doing right now. 

“I don’t really want to you regret it,” he says, quieter than Robb’s ever heard him, before looking downwards.

Robb doesn’t know what to answer at that – he knows he won’t, but he’s sure saying it won’t be as effective as he hopes.

So he moves closer, and Theon most probably didn’t expect him to press softly his mouth to his, but when he isn’t pushed away and he does it again, and Theon’s shaking fingers touch the small of his back, Robb thinks that maybe he got the point across.

 

_Now_

 

She barely notices, when she glances at the two men as she walks by. The red hair catches her eye for a moment, because while red hair isn’t exactly uncommon in Braavos from what she’s seen until now, that didn’t seem like dyed hair.

It’s just a few seconds later that she stops dead in her tracks, the coin feeling heavy in her hand, and she realizes that _she knows them_.

Arya momentarily forgets about what she’s come here for and turns back, hoping that – yes, she can still see red hair in the crowd. She runs towards them, careful not to make noise. When she catches up with them, still hidden in the crowd, she runs forward and hides in the first small hallway she finds so that she can look at their faces.

Oh.

She wasn’t wrong.

Arya hasn’t seen her brother in four years, not since he disappeared one day out of the blue with Theon Greyjoy, before a letter came to Winterfell saying that Theon’s father was not, in fact, planning to go to war again. Her mother had cried – she remembers her sobbing as she said that Robb threw away his life for nothing. Jon had looked devastated. Bran had been too young to fully grasp it. Sansa – well, Sansa had looked _sad_ , but she always thought that her brother was to be admired rather than pitied or hated, and Arya never really understood why. She had kind of hated Robb for making Jon miserable back then, and she hadn’t really cared about Theon Greyjoy one way or the other, and now –

Her brother looks like a man grown– she couldn’t mistake the face but he’s taller, less skinny, his cheeks covered in freckles on skin more tanned than she remembers it ever being. Greyjoy, who’s definitely the one next to him, is taller and more built as well, though his nose is peeling, so she supposes that he was the one with delicate skin after all. He didn’t use to brag about that, did he? She also doesn’t miss that he has a hand on Robb’s back and he’s looking at him sweetly – almost the same way her father used to look at her mother, and that’s what stops her from making a scene.

She swallows, suddenly feeling as she’s intruding when the back of Robb’s hand runs along Theon’s side before they start walking faster.

She follows them until they walk inside a small house in a canal – she walks carefully towards the open window on the side, hoping that they don’t close it. They don’t, and she kneels under it.

“You know,” Greyjoy says, “if you want to go back – I mean, with the news we’ve received lately –”

“No.” Arya’s heart sinks at that. Does he really care that little for what has happened to them? “It’d be useless. Come on, Theon, what do I do, go back to Westeros when damned Roose Bolton is ruling, name myself king in the North and demand that people follow me?”

His voice breaks slightly at that, though, and Arya thinks that maybe she should think twice about judging him before hearing this all. “I made my choice a long time ago,” Robb keeps on softly. “What news arrived here… they didn’t mention Jon, did they?”

No, they didn’t. He had stayed at Winterfell with Bran and Rickon after she and Sansa left for King’s Landing with their father. The three of them had disappeared after the royal army attacked Winterfell – it was too many people and there hadn’t been time to call the banners. While her lady mother is currently a hostage along with her sister.

“He’s not an idiot,” Robb keeps on. “He’ll know what to do. And – well, if he comes through, then I think he deserves the title more than I do.”

“You think that I don’t know that it’s killing you?”

Arya has never once in her life heard Greyjoy sound so concerned.

She decides to take a risk and walks to the side of the window, glancing inside the room. It seems to be a small bedroom – there’s just one bed inside. They’re both sitting on it, and gods Greyjoy is holding both of Robb’s hands in his.

“Well, hasn’t your father rebelled after all?” Robb answers. Greyjoy shudders visibly. Arya remembers that too – it had happened the moment their father died – or so Yoren had told her while he was trying to bring her to the Wall.

“Maybe he wouldn’t have if –”

“You can’t know. And – and I still think it was worth it.” Robb raises a hand and his fingertips brush over Theon’s cheek before cupping it. “What was that man from the ironborn ship saying in the tavern a few months ago? That they knew nothing of your whereabouts and even if they did your lord father wouldn’t really have cared? I told you. As much as I wish I could be there, I’d do it all over again and you should stop blaming yourself for it. You never asked for it and neither did I, so just don’t.”

Theon shakes his head once before – oh.

He’s kissing Robb, and he’s doing it almost tenderly, and Arya has never seen him touching anyone as carefully when they still all were in Winterfell. Or at least she can’t remember, though well – he did always have a soft spot for Robb, didn’t he?

When they part, Arya is positive that he’s looking at Robb as if he’s – he’s the only light in his life or _something_ equally, stupidly romantic that Sansa would have put in better words, and she wishes she could be envious or angry, but – Robb is looking at him the same way and she can’t bring herself to. She’s seen enough misery to last her a lifetime, and while she never had really understood the deal with Theon and him being a hostage rather than a ward as her father said… maybe she understands why Sansa never resented Robb.

Hasn’t he done an extremely huge, idiotic romantic gesture that people write ridiculously boring songs about? And they look so happy that at least they’re together, and – she can’t really hate them for that. It’s not like it was Robb’s fault if everything went down so badly.

And then she thinks, _what if I stopped hiding_? Robb did say that he wished he could be with _them_ even if he wouldn’t take his actions back. She isn’t so sure about wanting to use that coin anymore. Maybe she could ask them if they can arrange for her to go back to Westeros or maybe if they know someone who could help her track Jon down. Or maybe she just hopes that something good might happen when she can’t remember the last time she had a legitimate reason not to expect anyone to kill her at short notice.

She’s knocked on the door before she thinks this through, and then she thinks, _what if he doesn’t recognize me, what if he doesn’t believe me, not that many of the others did_ , and for a moment she misses having long hair – maybe it would have been easier.

Then the door opens. She forces herself to look up into her brother’s blue eyes (so very much like her mother’s) and just _hopes_.

“Arya?” Robb almost shouts, and a moment later there are arms around her waist lifting her up, sword and all, and when she feels another pair tentatively circling her other side after the door is closed, she thinks that while it might not feel exactly like home, it’s so close that she doesn’t care at all.

End.


End file.
